


McVities' Revenge

by LadyHeliotrope



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Chocolate, Cookies, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/pseuds/LadyHeliotrope
Summary: Hermione Granger is mad that she gave Millicent Bullstrode her whole package of McVities.
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Hermione Granger
Kudos: 4
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	McVities' Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> for VB who needs something yummy today

Hermione wasn’t the kind of girl that typically fell in love. Oh no. The way that she used to admire the shine of Millicent’s hair in double potions was purely an infatuation. Of this she was entirely certain.

The other woman smelled of vanilla and candle wax, and Hermione only knew this now because they were coworkers. Colleagues, even. Almost approaching friends, if you squinted hard enough. They shared an office in the medical center at St. Mungo’s.

Millicent had specialized in energy healing for her healer’s mastership, and she performed her role with a strangely effusive warmth that Hermione would never have expected from the other girl’s demeanor at school. Whenever one of the mediwitches needed someone to counsel a young woman through her pregnancy tears, they offloaded the task to Millicent, and the rather bland and mousy woman with owlish glasses could transform a blubbering incomprehensible witch back into a self-possessed and beaming lady. It was rather remarkable, though as far as Hermione could discern, no magic was actually used in the process.

For her part, Hermione ran the whole damn gynecology program. She hadn’t planned to end up in medical administration when she’d gone to pursue her legal training, but one thing had led to another, and here she was. She was her mother’s daughter, she sadly concluded.

Honestly, it was rather an affront to have to share an office, given her title and role, but at least it was with a woman who smelled delectable.

“Want some of my digestives?” Hermione knew the other woman would never refuse an offer like that. Millicent was pleasantly simple in many ways - almost as if, after Hogwarts, she’d taken a course on how to be as inoffensive and straightforward a human being as possible. No longer did she stand loomingly over Hermione, despite still being a full head taller. No longer did she glare at Hermione’s work and gnash her teeth in confusion and frustration while she brewed some kind of noxious disaster. No longer did she appear boyish and stern, the female counterpart to Vincent Crabbe.

Now, indeed, the woman’s curves had filled out lusciously and abundantly, giving her a comfortable, matronly appearance. Now, indeed, she gave soft smiles and congenial nods whenever she caught Hermione’s eye as they worked at their separate desks. Now, indeed, she seemed to shrink hesitantly behind her boss’s shoulder, always prepared to float away in a moment if Hermione was too busy.

Hermione found herself rather missing the old Millicent, though she couldn’t identify why, exactly. 

“Of course!” Millicent eased herself up out of her creaking chair, and wobbled unsteadily over to Hermione’s desk. “Pins and needles, oof.” She raised up one foot, pointed it in front of her, and slowly circled it in the air.

The sight of Millicent’s foot caught Hermione rather off guard. The other woman was wearing some subtly sparkling silver shoes, and something inside Hermione stirred with unusual sensations.

“I…here.” Hermione thrust the package at Millicent, and turned back to her paperwork. “I don’t think I like these very much. You can have the lot.” It was a lie; these were her absolute favorite biscuits, but she was startled by the onslaught of surprising feelings.

“I’ve seen you eat a whole package of these at once,” Millicent observed, putting her foot down and wincing.

Caught, Hermione shrugged.

“I’ve gone off them, I suppose.”

Millicent raised one eyebrow - a trick she’d obviously learned from her former head of house. But she didn’t say anything other than “Well, thanks,” and then she retreated back to her desk, nibbling all the while.

……..

Millicent left on time, as she always did, and Hermione was at work far too late. Usually this didn’t bother her at all, but for some reason, tonight she was struggling to maintain her attention. If only she hadn’t given away her snack…

Hermione stood up and went to Millicent’s desk, hoping to find a remnant of the biscuits that should have been hers. She opened the drawers and poked behind the books, but to no avail. Instead, all she saw was the chocolate bits and crumbly biscuit mess that Millicent left behind on her desk.

This angered her a great deal, to see so much carelessness and waste. Hermione swept the crumbs angrily into the wastepaper basket with her hand, but chocolate smeared across the side of her palm. She cursed and then raised up her hand to lick it off, since no one else was there.

As her tongue extended beyond her lips, she felt herself sigh into the delicious taste. Unbidden, an image began to melt into her mind of Millicent returning to the office, and then helping clean Hermione’s hand of the confection.

It was oddly, strangely hot. Hermione couldn’t remember such a powerful image ever coming into her mind like this. It felt almost like a dream.

She went back to her desk and tried to put the vision away, but the quality management program statistics turned fuzzy in her eyes while her mind bubbled over with fantasy.

This would not do. Hermione decided to simply write down her imaginary liason for the sake of letting go of it. Her own private energy healer often recommended ‘pushing away’ uncomfortable thoughts with the symbolically powerful practice of writing things down then disposing of the paper.

At first she hesitated - lest someone see it! But after a moment of thought, she realized she could shred it to bits and flush it down the loo.

So, that’s what she did. Hermione Granger wrote down every lurid and emotional detail of her vivid experience.

Or at least, she tried to. Honestly, poor Hermione was rather exhausted after having pulled an all-nighter the previous evening. So halfway through her erotic manifesto, her eyelids fell completely shut, and she sank into slumber, head pressed upon her payroll books.

…….. 

They say that every great disaster starts with a series of little disasters that snowball together to create one enormous disaster. And unfortunately, Hermione was about to learn this first-hand, though she did not know it at the time.

At approximately four in the morning, a house-elf named Stinky came tumbling through the office to complete his janitorial duties. Now, Stinky was a very diligent and hard worker, but his name was certainly not a mischaracterization. His supervisor, concerned about possible unintended ramifications, permitted Stinky to serve St. Mungo’s office areas provided that he opened windows to air things out while he worked.

Normally, this went without anyone being the wiser. But as it happened, tonight while Stinky worked, he was suffering from having eaten a bit of off-color potato. He kept working for a bit, then dashing to the lavatory, and then returning to continue his trevail, then when the asteroids started to hit his lower atmosphere again, he’d run off to the lavatory once more.

All of which is to say, he left an open window unattended.

This would have been innocent enough, except for the fact that a puckish St. Mungo’s owl named Hooligan was roaming, searching for tasty mice to eat. Or, as Hooligan often found instead, opportunities for pranks to play upon the ridiculous creatures that had the nerve to presume that owls serve humans, and not the other way around.

Tonight, Hooligan poked his little beak into the window that Stinky left open, and he saw the way Hermione grasped desperately onto her pen, and how deeply her pen had inked the paper, and how Hermione’s hand was tucked into her waistband… and a wicked idea came to mind.

Now, magical owls are particularly good at discerning where particular missives are meant to be delivered. This is all well and good for the normal law-abiding magical owl who wishes nothing more than to obtain a treat in as expedient and effective a way as possible. But Hooligan was no normal law-abiding magical owl, and he instead ran towards chaotic-neutral if not chaotic-evil.

And so when he looked at the work Hermione scrawled out, he did some mental calculations and identified that Hermione’s illicit subject matter was… none other than Millicent Bullstrode.

And Hooligan _just so_ happened to have delivered Millicent’s most recent pay-stubs to her house, and he knew _precisely_ where she took her mail.

This was just the kind of adventure Hooligan enjoyed. It didn’t matter if Hermione planned to mail this or not - he would deliver it, and that was that.

So he carefully, with one eager claw, extracted the papers from Hermione’s clutches. Then, snapping them tightly in his beak, he flapped out of the window, just in time for Stinky to come back into the room and see Hooligan disappear into the night.

……..

Millicent flushed red as she tried to understand what she was reading. It looked like her boss’s handwriting, certainly, but it _couldn’t_ be. This must be some sort of awful, mean-spirited prank.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone purported to be interested in Millicent just for the sake of a laugh.

But then, as she kept perusing the contents of the erotic fiction, she noticed a critical, telling detail.

The biscuits. Hermione’s favorites were depicted in all their gooey, deliciousness, and while the brand was not named, it was patently obvious how passionate Hermione was about them.

And also how much Hermione had resented the fact that she’d given them away in a fit of distractedness.

Distractedness about Millicent’s _shoe_.

Oh, woe betide her! Millicent hadn’t ever had anyone demonstrate any real interest in her. Not that she’d allowed or invited romance to come her way - her longstanding crush on the bushy-haired Gryffindor meant that no one else could truly measure up to be Millicent’s ideal woman.

The temptation to allow her secret desire be fulfilled? It was too great. 

She decided she would go ahead and assume that the writing was genuine and in earnest, but she would be circumspect herself. Being a consummate Slytherin, she’d never let someone get the upper hand of her without a plan.

And so, plan she did.

…….. 

“Hermione?”

Millicent tapped her boss on the shoulder, and Hermione startled awake with almost comical suddenness.

“I- oh, good, um, morning.” Hermione surreptitiously wiped off some drool from the corner of her mouth and tried to hide her morning breath. She obviously looked a fright.

“Here’s some coffee. You seem to need it.”

Millicent nudged a paper container across the desk. It was from the lovely little bakery a few blocks away, and one of Hermione’s favorite places to lunch.

“Thanks, that’s so thoughtful,” Hermione said, then screamed as her eyes glanced upon the clock at her elbow.

“I’m sorry, I let you sleep a little bit,” Millicent apologized, though she did so with a smile that borderlined smirk territory.

“A _little_ bit?!” Hermione gasped, frantically grabbing a tissue and scrubbing at her face, “I’ve missed three meetings already!”

“First off, have a _little_ faith in me, please.” Millicent grinned at this point, and sipped her own coffee superciliously. “Barnaby cancelled because he’s hungover, _again_ , as you probably counted on.” 

“Director of Outpatient Programs and My Fat Arse,” Hermione agreed with a sneer. She sucked at the coffee and was pleasantly surprised to find it precisely the right temperature to chug.

“It’s rather pretty, though,” Millicent muttered, and Hermione’s brows shot up in disbelief.

Millicent looked innocent enough, and Hermione shook her head to clear it. She must have misheard something.

“I rearranged your meeting with the chief financial officer to Tuesday next,” Millicent went on, “which honestly his secretary thanked me because she was really behind on her reports.”

“I see.” Hermione couldn’t say she approved, but it _had_ helped her save face. She grumbled, but didn’t argue.

“And your final meeting this morning,” Millicent said, with a sly look in her eyes, “I simply cancelled on your behalf.”

Hermione frowned. “I can’t remember for the life of me what it was.”

Millicent fluttered her eyes nervously. “It was with the head of HR. For a lunch date.”

Hermione’s face blanched. “Oh. Shite. Felix.”

Millicent laughed aloud. “Well. You said it yourself last week, it was just for politics’ sake. I told him you were into girls, and were too embarrassed to tell him yourself. He took it rather well.”

Hermione’s face was no longer paper white, but purple as an aubergine.

“You _what?!”_

This was to be expected, of course. Millicent was prepared. “I mean, I did schedule you another date, just in case you were feeling peckish about now.”

The thin line of Hermione’s lips was scarcely able to move as she asked, “May I presume to ask….with _whom,_ exactly?”

The confidence in Millicent’s eyes was 100% fake, but Hermione wouldn’t know that.

“The woman you’re about to fire for meddling in your operations and overstepping professional boundaries.”

She stepped up closer to Hermione, and pulled out one of Hermione’s favorite biscuits. Hermione’s eyes widened, and then unexpectedly Millicent shoved it into her own mouth, allowing crumbs and chocolate to smear across her lips.

It was only thus armed that she leaned in and kissed Hermione, the scent and flavor of biscuit overpowering everything in Hermione’s senses.

It was an enormous - elephantine - gamble. But after a few minutes of slow, sweet kissing, Hermione pulled back and began to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay. It’s a date, Millicent. And you _are_ fired.”

“I expected nothing less,” Millicent replied coolly, a wink in her eyes. “It would be grossly unethical for an energy healer to be involved with her employer.”

“Incredibly.” Hermione caught herself grinning, and then suddenly chuckling nervously. “Say… by the way…”

She looked down at the desk and moved papers around. Then, panicking, she began to flounder among her documents. “Did… did you see…”

“This?” Millicent pulled the erotica from between her breasts. It was smeared with bits of melted chocolate, but it was still clearly recognizable. “It was delivered to me. By owl, I assume.”

Hermione’s face flushed deep crimson. “I didn’t send it to you.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Millicent mused, “but there it was.”

“Did… did you read it?”

“It was about _me._ Of course I read it.” The smile and searching look on Millicent’s face made Hermione’s loins begin to wrestle inside her. “And… _I liked what I read._ ” 

She didn’t need to say anything else, because Hermione threw herself upon her in a ferocious lioness pounce, and there upon the carpeted floor of the office, they tasted each other’s darker chocolates for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "Owls deliver messages that their people didn't explicitly ask them to send. Light erotic."


End file.
